


The List

by inklings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Harry Potter Next Generation, Love Confessions, Next Generation, Next-Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 16:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2659058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inklings/pseuds/inklings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Weasley loves making lists. Scorpius Malfoy just wants her to see him as more than a best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The List

“Rose. Hey Rose. Hey Rosie.” Scorpius Malfoy huffed and waved his hands in front of his best friend’s face as she sat across from him in the Ravenclaw common room, furiously scribbling on parchment paper as usual. Normally, he found this one of her more endearing qualities—her bookishness meant that he always had someone to compete with academically, and who was willing to actually discuss theoretical potions in length with him—but tonight, his stomach was growling and Rose had promised to sneak down to the kitchen with him ages ago.

She looked up distractedly, pushed a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear, and sighed. “Merlin, Scorp. Can’t you hang on for just another five minutes? I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

Scorpius tried to ignore just how very _pretty_ Rose looked by the firelight as she bit her lower lip and flashed her warm brown eyes at him in annoyance. He wasn’t quite sure when he had started staring like an idiot whenever Rose entered a room (okay, he knew—it was on that Hogsmeade trip last year, when she’d latched onto his arm because it was so cold, and he could see snowflakes landing on her eyelashes and the freckled bridge of her nose and he felt like it’d be impossible to look away), but it was rather inconvenient. It was one thing to fancy a girl (that was perfectly normal for a 16-year-old bloke), but it was quite another altogether when that girl happened to be your best friend in the whole wide world, and your respective fathers were already put out enough that you spent time together, and you were nearly 100% certain that the girl saw you in a completely platonic light.

That was the inconvenient (and the hellish) part of it.

“I’m going to starve to death if we don’t leave soon,” he complained. His eyes landed on the piece of paper in front of her, and he frowned—it appeared that Rose was making another one of her interminable lists. “Hey, you’re not working on your Transfiguration essay,” Scorpius accused, pointing at the piece of paper. “What’s that about?”

Rose was infamous for the long lists of pros and cons that she created for every single decision—from what Christmas presents to get for all her friends and family, to which classes she should take next year, to whether or not to say yes to bloody Matthew Zabini when he asked her to accompany him to Hogsmeade (Scorpius admitted that he’d contributed quite a few points to the “cons” column for that particular list, and was pleased when Rose ultimately turned Zabini down).

Scorpius tried to read her list upside down, but all he caught were a few words: 

_-attractive...-kissing...-confess?-_

He reached out to take the list from her and was surprised when Rose blushed and yanked it out of reach. She _never_ hid anything from him. Merlin, she’d told him about the time that she’d sleep walked to the Great Hall in nothing but her knickers and a Chudley Cannons t-shirt and had to run all the way back to the girls’ dormitory without being seen. The mental image of Rose in her skimpy sleepwear had kept  _him_ awake for weeks. 

“It’s nothing,” she responded a little too quickly, shoving the parchment into her book bag. “Don’t worry about it.”

Scorpius opened and closed his mouth, his mind racing. Why in the world wouldn’t she show him the list? It obviously had to do something personal, given the words that he'd seen. Had... had another bloke asked her out to Hogsmeade? Or worse yet, had another bloke asking her to be his girl? He watched as she pulled on her wooly jumper and tied her hair back into a messy ponytail—her whole lovely face perfectly framed by a few wisps of wavy hair. For some reason, Rose still refused to look him in the eye and Scorpius felt his stomach plummet.

It probably was another bloke, he thought miserably, someone good-looking and confident. He just hoped that it wasn’t Patrick Finnegan, who was a smug arse, but somehow universally adored by all the girls in their year. Patrick had a big mouth, and if Scorpius had to hear him bragging about how far he’d gotten with Rose… well, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep from punching him in the mouth. 

“So let’s go to the kitchen, yeah?” Rose’s voice interrupted his violent thoughts. “You’ll be wanting your pasties and Butterbeer.”

Scorpius smiled weakly at her—his appetite had entirely disappeared—and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They were silent as they made their way down to the kitchen, since they didn’t want to get caught. Typically this was a companionable silence, punctuated with nudges and sly looks, but tonight they hardly interacted as they took their usual route. Scorpius trudged along beside Rose as she pulled on the end of her ponytail and bit her lower lip, a sure sign that she was trying to figure out some sort of puzzle.

On his end, Scorpius was going through all the blokes in their year—and in the year ahead of them (Rose was such a catch; there was no way that the 7th years hadn’t noticed her)—who could have possibly asked her out. And if one of them had, how was he going to convince her that she shouldn’t date him?

“Rose,” he whispered as they turned a corner. They were almost at the kitchen, and she turned towards him, tilting her head inquisitively. “Do you… do you reckon Patrick Finnegan is a good-looking bloke?”

She gave him an incredulous look and let out a snort of laughter. “Been pining after Finnegan, have you? I never realized that he was your type.”

They reached the portrait of the bowl of fruit and Rose reached up to tickle the pear, which giggled delightedly before turning into a doorknob.

Scorpius flushed as they stepped into the kitchen. “No, I wasn’t…” he said, running a hand through his hair. Rose flashed him a mischievous grin as she perched onto a stool, patting the one next to it for Scorpius to sit down. “I meant, I heard Marissa Thomas talking about him, and I was wondering if, you know, you thought the same thing.”

“So it’s Marissa you fancy then?” Rose asked, reaching across the table to grab a plate of pasties. Her tone was light—teasing, even—but she was avoiding eye contact again. “And to answer your question, no. I don’t think the same thing. Patrick’s an enormous prat and anyone who thinks otherwise is an idiot.”

He tried to keep his overwhelming sense of relief from showing on his face. "On, right then," Scorpius said, grinning at Rose. "I knew you were more sensible than that. And no, I don't fancy Marissa. She's too... squeaky." 

Rose laughed at that and held a pasty up to his lips. “Open up, Scorpy!” she squealed, imitating Marissa’s high-pitched voice. “Come on, _darling_ , let me hand feed you. It’s _romantic_.”

Scorpius knew that she was just joking, but hearing Rose—who always called him “mate” or simply “Malfoy”—referring to him as “darling” made his heart beat a bit faster. He gave her a lopsided smile and leaned forward to bite into the pasty. 

"Thanks, love. What would I do without you?" he joked, but somehow his delivery landed all wrong. It lacked the sarcasm and flippancy that usually flew between them with ease. Scorpius coughed, trying to regain composure. “You know, how would I survive without you around to wound my ego and tell me that I’m a complete imbecile?”

Rose smirked at him. “I said that _one time_ in our second year and you’re still smarting from it, aren’t you?”

“I’m a very sensitive young man,” Scorpius countered. “We Malfoys are just a bunch of bleeding hearts.”

“Oh yeah, that’s what my mum and dad always said. ‘Draco Malfoy, he was such a sweet, sensitive bleeding heart.’”

They both started laughing at that. There was always something thrilling about bringing up their parents’ old feud, as though they were breaking the rules and rebelling simply by being best friends. They helped each other draft letters to their fathers that were most likely to give them conniption fits. _Rose Weasley has been helping me in Charms. She’s the cleverest witch I know,_ Scorpius wrote. _Scorpius Malfoy is certainly a better Quidditch player than me. I think he’s going to give me one-on-one flying lessons on the weekends,_ Rose scrawled. That letter had resulted in an actual Howler from her father, who apparently assumed that “one-on-one flying lessons” actually meant something… a bit more unsavory.

“Hey Rosie,” Scorpius said, bumping his shoulder against hers. “What was that list you were working on? Come on, you know you can tell me.”

Immediately, Rose's body tensed up, and Scorpius watched with equal parts interest and dismay as a flush rose to her face. It was obvious that whatever (or whoever) this was about, Rose had  _serious_ feelings about it.  _  
_

"Um, Butterbeer first," she said, snatching a mug off the table. Without waiting for Scorpius to pick up his own mug, she swallowed gulp after gulp until the mug was empty. Then she splayed both of her hands on the tabletop as though bracing herself for an impact. Scorpius opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but stopped when she turned to face him, her eyes blazing. "I fancy someone," she announced bluntly, and Scorpius felt as though his chest had gone hollow.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, trying to keep the abject despondency from creeping into his voice. He tried on an encouraging smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “That’s… that’s great, Rose.”

"As you've probably guessed, I was making a list of pros and cons to figure out the best way to tell him," Rose went on, her expression resolute. "Because I really,  _really_ like him, you know? We enjoy all of the same things, and every time we're together, it just feels easy and, well... natural. It's not a passing thing. I think we could make each other very happy." 

Scorpius nodded, trying not to look the way that he felt —which was as though he was going to be sick all over the plate of pasties sitting in front of him. 

“-But we’re good mates, and I’m worried that if I say something and he doesn’t feel the same way about me… well, then I’ll be in a really awkward situation, won’t I? And I’m not particularly good at spilling out my guts emotionally or anything,” she said, grinning briefly. “It’s not exactly the Weasley way.”

“It’s not the Malfoy way, either. Trust me,” Scorpius managed to choke out with a queasy smile. 

"Yeah. So I was making my list tonight, and I decided that  _telling_ him that I fancy him isn't the best method, because I'll probably just muck it all up. It'd be more effective if I just kissed him, don't you think?" 

"I think," Scorpius responded, his chest almost unbearably tight with envy and longing, "...that... well, I think it's..." 

"You have to promise me one thing though, Scorp," Rose cut him off, her expression serious. It was strange to see her devoid of the usual playful sparkle in her eye, the smile playing at the edge of her lips. "No matter who it is that I fancy, and no matter what you think, you'll still be my friend, right? I need you to say that."

There was such raw vulnerability in her voice that Scorpius had to pull himself out of his self pity trance and  _say something_. Even if he was miserable about Rose being in a relationship with someone else, he could never stop being her friend. He cared about her too much. He'd rather be a sad, pathetic third-wheel on her Hogsmeade dates than lose her completely. Scorpius shook his head firmly and looked Rose in the eye. “Of course I’ll still be your friend, Rose. I’ll be your friend no matter who you fancy. _Hell,_ you could fancy Professor-”

He would have gone on and on reassuring Rose of his unconditional friendship, but Scorpius suddenly found that he couldn't. Because at that moment, Rose reached up, placed a hand on the back of Scorpius' neck, and pulled his mouth down to meet hers. 

Scorpius froze, his back rigid with shock. One second, he'd been sitting there trying to act like he was  _happy_ for Rose and whichever bloke she fancied, and the next her soft lips were pressed against his and he had  _no idea what to do_. He was overwhelmed by her scent—that familiar, comforting smell of clean laundry, ink, and cinnamon—and the fact that he could see every freckle on her cheek up close. 

A few seconds later, Rose drew back, blushing fiercely. As she lowered her eyes, Scorpius caught a glimpse of uncertainty and disappointment in her gaze, and felt his chest tighten with rising panic.  _He hadn't kissed her back yet,_ and his chance was slipping away quickly as Rose hunched her shoulders and stared down at her hands. Before she could pull away from him completely, Scorpius reached over and placed a hand on her cheek. He'd touched her plenty of times before—she smacked him on the shoulder when they fought, and he slapped her hands away when she tried to steal his slice of pie during dessert—but never like  _this_. 

Her skin felt unbelievably soft against his palm, and she glanced up at him, looking shy and hopeful in a way that made his stomach flip. Scorpius pulled together all the courage that he possessed (he was no Gryffindor, but he could rise to the occasion), and leaned down to kiss Rose. 

Her lips parted beneath his and she sighed into his mouth. As Scorpius moved his hands so that his fingers were tangled in her ponytail, he felt sure that this must be some sort of vivid, incredible dream. There was no way that  _this_ was real, that Rose—the only girl he'd ever properly fancied—would fancy him back. But none of his dreams about Rose (and there had been many) had ever felt  _this_ good, and as Scorpius felt Rose's tongue (her clever, witty, acerbic tongue) dart into his mouth, he stopped thinking about anything else. 

Eventually, they broke apart. Scorpius felt a grin spread across his entire face, and Rose smiled back at him. "So you fancy me?" he asked, just to confirm. 

She nodded, blushing again. “Yeah, I have for a while now. I thought you knew.”

"But I've fancied  _you_ for a while now," Scorpius said, still amazed. "I've fancied you for  _ages_ , Rosie. You knew that, right?" 

This time, it was Rose's turn to look surprised. She shook her head, and she and Scorpius stared at each other for a long moment as they both processed the new information. And then they burst into laughter at the same time, Rose resting her hand on his knee as she doubled over in a fit of giggles. Scorpius scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and Rosie leaned against his chest. She fit there perfectly, like a puzzle piece snapping into place. 

“Merlin, we’re idiots,” she murmured once the giggles had finally subsided. “All this time we could have been snogging our faces off." 

Scorpius chuckled and pressed his lips against her hair. His entire body felt warm and weightless. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been this surprised, and well...  _happy_. He was in the kitchen (which had endless pasties and Butterbeer) with his best friend (who made his life interesting and fun) and she’d just admitted that she fancied him (and wouldn’t mind snogging his face off).

“We’ll make up for lost time,” he promised before kissing her again.

_Fin._


End file.
